


a thousand apologies

by queerwatson



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerwatson/pseuds/queerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>spoilers for the empty house - a loose interpretation of a possible ritchie holmes reunion. mary morstan appreciation, though post-mortem, and no kissing or anything explicitly johnlocky just because watson's not fully recovered yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a thousand apologies

It was true that Holmes had tried to tell Watson he was alive before he left, but that one small hint was all that could be given. Anything more would have been horribly dangerous with Moran still alive and undeniably watching. With that, and with Watson’s lack of answer to his rather important question, Holmes had left his hint and taken his leave of London, headed East.

Three years later, long enough that any man might have questioned a hint, Holmes had returned, ready to face Moran with John at his side - as long as his Watson would have him back, that was. He had a plan in place, being aware of Adair’s murder, but still when he kept his head tilted down and away at the courthouse. He hadn’t seen Mary anywhere. That had been rather surprising. Still, convenient. Mrs. Watson was far too good at seeing through his disguises. John was greyer, and thinner... concerning, when combined with Mary’s absence. Had something happened?

Still, he kept his mind, for the moment, on the plan. He followed Watson back to his lodgings and knocked at the door. Greeted by a housekeeper of some sort he made his way up to Watson’s study, and soon found himself face to face with the man. Before his very fun plan could start, however, Watson had punched him directly in the nose, and Holmes was so stunned that he fell backwards. It wasn’t entirely surprising - the gesture was familiar, John’s punch the same as ever, and it rather pleased Holmes that he’d seen through the disguise.

He took off the nose and false facial hair in one quick gesture and held his nose, wincing as he leaned up slightly. Still, he smiled. “Always nice to see you, Watson.”

At first John looked angry - then his expression softened slightly. The punching always made him feel better, Holmes found. The expression also lightened Holmes’ mood - he had missed it very much.

“You are a selfish bastard.”

Unsteadily, Holmes stood and dusted himself off. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Watson went behind his desk and opened his medical bag, pulling out some sort of salve for Holmes’ nose. “Sit down. Let me patch you up. You haven’t been diving over waterfalls regularly in your absence, have you?”

Holmes smiled. “Just the one.”

Watson dabbed gently at his nose and then screwed the top back on the medicine and put it away. “You certainly took your time. Started to think you might have been dead after all. Had plenty of time to think about it.”

Sighing, Holmes stood and moved close behind him. “Yes, I am sorry about that. Moran is still about. I had... business to take care of. I thought I would leave you here to enjoy married life while I-”

“She’s dead, Holmes.”

Holmes blinked, his expression going sad. “Really?”

“Yes.” They looked at each other, now, and Holmes felt they were both aware of just how lonely they’d both been over the past few years.

“I’m terribly sorry, old boy. She was impressive. I wish she’d have been able to help us out a little longer.”

John watched him for a moment, then smiled, just barely. “She certainly saw right through you.”

Smiling back at him, Holmes felt something go tight in his throat. It was true that he could have been kinder to Mary - it hadn’t been any fault of her own that he’d been so terse with her from time to time. She had been kind and intelligent, and even beautiful, objectively. The perfect match for Watson. “How did it happen?”

“Tuberculosis. Not much to be done.”

Nodding, he looked away, hoping for a change in subject.

“So you left me here to domestic bliss - that’s very unlike you.”

A lift of one shoulder was all Holmes could manage, turning towards the window. It made him miss Baker Street. “You never seemed particularly enthusiastic, wrapping everything up. You were very good, as always. The very best companion any man could ask for, but I asked if - well, you would have had to spend quite a bit of time with me, away from your wife. We’d have been in hiding, much like our last last case, without even the promise of home. You weren’t interested.”

It took a moment, but there was a flicker of recognition on Watson’s face.

_Are you as happy as you would be on your honeymoon in Brighton?_

_I’m not going to grace that question with an answer._

He sighed, quietly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Holmes-”

“I realize I never asked you directly, but it wasn’t exactly possible, Watson. I wasn’t even confident that I’d live, there was only so much I could do.”

Watson tilted his head back up, and they looked at each other. “I’m not angry with you. I don’t have the energy. But you’re not doing anything like this again.”

“At my age? Really, Watson.”

The corners of his friend’s mouth twisted up, and Holmes was relieved.

“I’ll have a shoulder to match your leg, you should know. I never really got it properly taken care of, beyond what you did. I’ll be able to work around it in a fight, but cold days aren’t quite what they used to be.”

Nodding, Watson stepped closer to him. It was strange, but Holmes welcomed it.

“Holmes-” There was something strained in Watson’s voice, and Holmes raised an eyebrow and hummed. Then, suddenly, Watson’s arms were around him. It was strange for a moment, but there was nothing about it that could keep Holmes’ arms from wrapping around him, or to keep him from relaxing into the embrace.

They stood like that much longer than propriety would have encouraged.

“It’s very good to see you, too Holmes.”


End file.
